Behind closed doors
by Gaelcelt
Summary: Slash. Don't like slash? Then don't read this. Christian Daae, a young tenor, becomes a success at L'Opera Populaire. Later he is visited by an old friend, Jezebelle de Chagny. But she soon discovers that Christian and a mysterious man are in love...
1. Disappearance

These characters are not mine. I changed Christine to a young tenor, Christian, and Raoul to Jezebelle; for those of you who know the significance of the name "Jezebel", you'll understand. Oh, and I concidered the names "Anne" and "Anita", after Ann Coulter and Anita Bryant, two women that I just HATE.

I think of Gerard Butler as Erik since I've seen his flooring portrayal for Erik.

Warning to you: this is slash (gay romance). If you don't like slash, don't send me irate messages; just don't read it.

And I've considered the vocal parts for the characters...

Erik: _Spinto tenor or dramatic tenor_

Christian Daaë: _Lyric tenor or spinto tenor_

Vicomtesse Jezebelle De Chagny: _Dramatic mezzo-soprano_

Madame Estelle Giry: _Contralto_

Meg Giry: _Lyric soprano or soubrette_

Signor Ubaldo Piangi: _Tenor_

Signora Carlotta Giudicelli: _Soprano_

Monsieur Firmin: _Lyric baritone_

Monsieur André: _Buffo tenor_

Joseph Buquet: _Baritone or bass_

Monsieur Reyer: _Bass_

Behind Closed Doors.

Carlotta's screeching high notes broke the ears of the cast. But none of them dared to say a word about it if they liked her out of their faces. They had seen far too many of those foul tempers that she would throw if she wasn't satisfied with something.

Carlotta seemed totally absorbed in her singing. She thought herself to be a lark... but she sounded like a crow to the rest of the cast. Still, she was warming her voice up... but the cast saw past her saccarine singing voice; they saw only the demanding, spoiled diva that she was.

_"Honestly, Carlotta!"_ Meg Giry said to herself, _"You sound like an injured bull. If it wasn't for your vocal strength and its occasional moments of beauty, I don't know how you'd be with this opera house at all."_ Quickly, she shifted her thoughts to the dance steps, not wanting a reprimand from her mother, Madame Estelle Giry, who was busy concentrating on the dancers, daring them to make a mistake.

All over the stage, the chorus, ballet, and stagehands danced frantically as they tried to finish rehearsing, to finish the lavish sets and the ornate costumes. LeVèvre, the retiring manager of L'Opera Populaire, and his replacement managers, Firmin and Andre, looked on in distress at the half made-up cast howling their way through the grand choral scene.

"You see, Andre, Firmin, the grand opera before the curtain rises." LeVèvre said dryly, looking grimly at the troops practicing strenuously.

"But surely things will work out somehow. After all, this is the dress rehearsal." Firmin tried to assure.

As if to contradict Firmin and spite LeVèvre, more bad news came.

"Piangi has taken ill." a stagehand came out to announce, "He has lost his voice". Ubaldo Piangi, their best tenor, sick? The new managers, Firmin and Andre, already dismayed from Carlotta's screeching, cringed in panic.

Carlotta wailed in distress. "A, piu non posso! Perchè, Mio Ubaldo caro? Must you leave me to perform on my own?"

"You see why I am leaving," LeVèvre whispered to his new managers, looking defeated.

"Excusez moi, monsieurs, I have a message from the Opera Ghost." Madame Giry approached them briskly.

"What? The Opera Ghost? Dear goodness, you're all obsessed with this-!" Firmin groaned.

"He bids you welcome to his opera house,"

"His opera house?" Andre sputtered in disbelief.

"He says just that, monsieurs. He instructs you to keep box 5 empty at all times for his use, and he says that, gentlemen, his salary is due." Madame Giry continued.

"His salary?" Firmin could not believe this. Who was this Opera Ghost and what right had he to receive a salary from them?

"LeVèvre used to give him twenty-thousand francs a month." Madame Giry replied, looking a little cross.

"What? Twenty thousand francs?" Andre cringed.

"And you can't afford that with the de Chagny family as you patrons?" Madame Giry's voice was stern but smooth.

"Well, apparently there won't be any patrons with this production since it seems that we've lost our star!" Firmin snapped.

"Well, is there an understudy?" Andre asked, looking hopefully at the cast. None responded right away. They were in no hurry to accept the grueling life of a star.

"There's no understudy for Ubaldo Piangi, monsieur!" Reyer called out incredulously from the orchestra pit.

"Well gentlemen," a flustered Firmin grumbled, "It seems that we shall have to cancel, for nobody is available to fill in for Signor Piangi!"

"Christian Daaë could sing it for you, Sir!" Meg Giry piped up. A young, dark-haired man standing nearby looked at her, his eyes panicked.

"A chorus boy?" Andre looked uncertainly at the boy, who was standing shyly to the side, "Are you certain? You're joking."

"He has been taking lessons from a great teacher, gentlemen. I assure you." said Madame Giry, her black eyes staring into Andre's eyes piercingly.

"Who would this teacher be?" Firmin questioned.

"I'm afraid that I can't give his name, Monsieur." Christian's voice was barely audible.

Firmin and Andre looked at each other and turned away from the stage, fed up.

"Honestly, how can we accept a chorus boy who won't give the name of his professor?" Christian heard Firmin.

_"No! This can't be! ...I have to do this or I won't survive!"_

"I will do it-!" Christian called to them, hoping that they would stop. They gave him another unknowing glance.

_"Oh Lord, help me! What am I doing?"_ Christian doubted how well he could sing. He looked beseechingly for help from anybody.

Madame Giry spoke up for Christian. "Let him sing for you, Monsieurs. He has been well taught."

"Monsieur," Christian signaled to Reyer, who was still standing at his post in the orchestra pit, looking a bit ruffled.

Christian's voice was pinched with anxiety. He couldn't produce a proper tone... but, on seeing the glaring faces of Firmin and Andre, he tried harder. Thinking of the death of his mother ten years ago, he put all of his emotion into the aria, managing two effortless high c's.

_"Please, don't let them say anything poorly of me...!"_ he thought as he sang the aria, _"Oh Mama, I hope that I've made you proud..."_ he was sure that his mother would be proud... but what about these managers? He focused on all he learned, thinking of the brashness and courage that Piangi displayed on the stage... but he wasn't Piangi. He was just a chorus boy. And one who was known to be quite shy underneath the facade of a performer. _"A failure at nineteen years? I can't let that be-!_

_"I've been on my own for so long... if not for Estelle, where would I be? What if I'll fail? I won't be here much longer if I do...! Oh please, let them consider me for a bit part if anything, or at least let me stay here...!"_

Glancing back around him, he saw that all were staring at him with awe. Christian gulped as he saw the looks on their faces. What were they thinking of him? Was his singing good? Bad? Mediocre? _"Will I be turned away now?"_ he wondered. He closed his eyes, bracing himself to hear the words that he was dreading.

There was still silence from all of those that were present.

"What are you waiting for?" Andre broke the silence, "Get this gentleman's costumes prepared!"  
At his command, the costumers bustled about to find the proper costume in the right size for the new star. The cast gossiped among themselves, still in awe and not yet believing that they had heard such spectacular singing from this humble chorus-boy.

Christian looked about him with an identical expression, not believing what had just happened...

* * *

_"Pourquoi? Pourquoi, mon ange...? Pleur pas, mon amour... il est vrai que je doive tu laisser, mon coeur..." _

Christian put his best into his acting and singing. He could not believe that he was actually singing in the main role of an opera. He did his best to focus on his performance and not on his disbelief and nervousness.

Never had the audience heard such beautiful, emotive singing from a man, and at his age. Many young women in the audience fawned and even swooned over his gentle good looks and ringing lyric tenor voice. Many ovations were given to an amazed Christian that night...

* * *

Jezebelle de Chagny watched the young tenor, just as amazed as he was. The young lady suddenly recognized Christian as the boy who saved her hat from the wind blowing it into the Seine. 

_"Christian Daaë? My, it has been a while! We've really grown up! ... but will he remember me? I must see him!"_

* * *

Christian was very much aware that there was a pair of eyes and a pair of ears trained on him. Somebody that would be very proud of him... somebody that he was very much looking forward to seeing.

* * *

_"Bravo... bravo... bravissimo...!"_ Chrsitian could hear those words faintly as he walked away from he chaos of the celebrating cast and crew. 

"...There you are, Christian!" Meg Giry squealed with excitement. "You were incredible tonight!"

Christian blushed with gratitude. "Thanks Meg! I really appreciate it." he embraced Meg warmly, but then looked at her in the eye, his face half-serious, "Although you and your mother did put me on the spot."

"I'm sorry, Christian," Meg apologized, half-smiling, "We didn't mean to do that to you, but... where are you going?" Christian was moving away, looking almost as though he were in a trance.

_"Christian..."_

"My tutor must see me now..."

Meg, ever curious, stuck out her neck, following him. "Who is this tutor, Christian?"

Christian's eyes had a far away look. She knew that he was thinking of his mother. Adelheid Daaë, a notable operatic contralto and accomplished violinist/harpist, had died when he was nine years of age...

"Mama once spoke of an angel... the Angel of Music... she said to me 'when I die, my little one, I will send the Angel of Music to you. He will guide you.' I have been in his presence, Meg. He has visited me..." his face was calm now, even content...

"Christian?" Meg inquired, "Do you believe that? Do you truly believe that there is an angel guiding you?"

A placid smile spread over Christian's face, "Yes, Meg. I believe it... I have been in his presence. He has met me face to face."

Meg looked at him, disbelieving. "Christian, you must have been mistaken. Are you sure that this was real?... Christian, you're cold!" Christian's face had taken on a pallor and his hands seemed chilled, but there was no draft nearby. Meg studied him concernedly.

Shaking off the stupor, Christian came to his senses. "I really must go, Meg."

"All right." she sighed, nervousness for him instilled in her. She was quite perplexed by the thought of an "Angel of Music".

"Meg, are you a dancer or are you not? Come back here!" her mother commanded.

"I'm coming!"

* * *

Christian made his way to his dressing room and sat down, exhausted. 

"I can't believe it...! I've made it!" He sighed with relief. He was terribly afraid that he'd be trapped in the frantic cycle of ballet. He was far from a polished dancer and he knew it. If that were to fail, then what? He'd have nothing at all.

An object on the floor in front of the mirror caught his eye. "So he's been here!" Christian mused, smiling as he picked up the rose. Many bouquets and other gifts had been given to him, but this single flower meant more to him than the entire florist's shop.

A knock on the door interrupted his thoughts

"Come in."

A striking young woman entered the room. The light danced through her blonde hair, her piercing green eyes gazed at Christian playfully.

"Christian! Can you not remember your Little Lotte?"

"Jezebelle? ...It is you!" a surprised Christian exclaimed.

He and the noblewoman embraced. They chattered nonstop, recalling the wonderful times that they had those years ago: picnics in the meadows on the outskirts of Paris; listening to Christian's mother warming up her warm, mellow voice and warbling as she played the harp; and recalling the day when they met. The wind had swept Belle's hat from her head and Christian, feeling that it was his duty to be courteous, gallantly chased after it.

"You almost fell into the river, as I recall!" She laughed.

Christian grinned at the memory.

"My mother said to me 'Someday when I'm in Heaven, my darling, I will send the Angel of Music to you...'"  
Christian's smile dropped, his eyes were dim, "Mama is dead, Belle...," but a trace of smile returned, "And the Angel has visited me... I have been in his presence"

"I'm sure that he has," she said amiably, "Why don't you come to dinner with me?"

"I'm sorry, Jezebelle, but I'm afraid that I can't. I have to visit my tutor. He's very strict."

"Come on, Christian! I'll be waiting for you!"

"But Jezebelle-!"

He was too late. She was right out the door.

"Things have changed, Jezebelle..."

_"So, she is gone... at last..."_

_

* * *

_

Christian shivered at that voice. He'd longed to see him all night.

_"The impudent girl, basking in your glory!"_

"Angel of Music, come to me...!" Christian responded ecstatically.

The mirror pane slid aside, revealing a secret passage. Mist poured from the opening... a pale mask appeared from the shadows...

"Erik...!" "Christian...! Angel...!"

Christian's face met the soft, black folds of his lover's cape. Long fingers caressed through his dark locks of hair.

"Come, darling." that strong but gentle voice said...

Christian's sky-blue eyes looked up into Erik's amber ones.

Erik enveloped Christian in his cape, planting a kiss upon his lips.

"Our boudoir awaits us, love." Erik crooned, gracefully motioning to the mirror...

Christian cuddled in closer to Erik as they walked through the mirror...

Just as the mirror pane slid back into place, the door opened. Jezebelle burst into the room.  
"Christian!" she shrieked, horrified at the empty room.


	2. Lover of the Phantom

"You sang beautifully tonight, Christian." Erik looked at the new star with pride and tenderness as they walked arm-in-arm down the corridors towards the lake.

"Thank you, darling!" Christian gushed, kissing the cheek of the man that he loved.

"Christian darling, you've made me so happy!" Erik thought with joy at the caress.

"The boat awaits us, dearest."

Christian sat contentedly aboard while Erik pushed off.

_"Mon ange, mon chéri de ciel,  
Enfin, nous sommes ensemble..."_

Erik sang as he rowed the boat. The sound of his voice enthralled Christian...

* * *

_He'd never known anybody like Christian before. The harshness of the past still tainted his view of the world... he could still hear the grating call of "See the Devil's Child!" and the beatings that he received if he misbehaved still tingled his flesh at times..._

_This was where he lived: in a hidden lair beneath the opera house that he designed and helped to build... but was given no recognition for it. Few knew of him, or even acknowledged his existance._

_The sound of the male voice, however harsh it was when directed at him, somehow rang musically in his ears... and the workers, stripped to the waist as they set up or dismantled the tents and platforms, tingled him...  
He tried to block out the thoughts, knowing that he would be in even more trouble should his keeper discover his desire for the men... a long time after, he was wary of coming close to a man, for fear of a beating. He knew all too well what horrid fate awaited those of his type. And if his mother had known that he would turn out like he was, then she surely would have killed him herself. He grimaced at those times that he thought of her, of the cries for help that went unanswered that many men of his "Greek" nature suffered._

_But Christian-! He noticed a slight vulnerability in the boy as he watched him in rehearsals. His heart sang at his voice, his smile... he lost his heart to Christian completely as he eavesdropped on Christian at one time- Christian was sitting alone on the roof, mourning for his mother, wondering whether his "Angel of Music" would come for him..._

_Erik had listened, taking in every word. He didn't like to eavesdrop, but his heart was breaking for this boy..._

_In little time, Erik had taken Christian under his wing, wanting to train him... but thoughts of holding and kissing him instilled nervousness in him... would Christian turn against him?_

_Christian had come to him by his own will, never questioning the mask that covered half of his teacher's face, showing no fear._

_He agonized all over again... he was so close to this boy who treated him with respect, who cared for him, and yet it seemed that they were worlds apart. What would become if Erik admitted his feelings to Christian? Distrust? Fear? Disdain?_

_Erik kept his secret to himself for so long, tormented and alone._

* * *

The warm glow of candles greeted them as the boat came to the portcullis. Christian never ceased to be amazed at the beauty of what Erik had built and created... he now shared the cavernous home with Erik... 

"Wait, love-." Erik said abruptly, "Here. You must put this on." he finished, handing a blindfold to Christian. Christian eyed it questioningly and complied, tying the fabric around his face.

"I trust you Erik... just don't lead me into the lake or anything else undesirable."

Erik smiled in amusement as he took Christian by the hand and led the way. "As a matter of fact, yes, my dear. I've been waiting to cast you into an icy cesspool swarming with leeches all evening." his voice dripping with sarcasm. Christian snickered and rolled his closed eyes.

"All right," he heard Erik whisper, "now...!"

He removed the blindfold. Christian gasped at the sight of the table, laden with a modest but exquisite dinner. White wine; luscious green lettuce in the salad, which dripped with vinegar; a sourdough baguette of garlic bread; tripes à la mode de Caen, still steaming; and a glistening pastry.

"I worked much of tonight preparing it, love." Erik stood behind Christian, embracing him.

"Oh, it's lovely! Thank you so much, Erik!" Christian gushed, giving him a peck on the cheek.

As they entered the dining chamber, where a small but memorable breakfast feast had occurred the morning after their first night together, Christian remembered the first time that he saw his lover without his mask, several days after they had declared what they felt for each other.

* * *

_"Erik... I cannot bring myself to do this, but I must say it..."_

_Christian had been trembling like a leaf. He fumbled for the right words._

_He saw that Erik had a slight smile on his lips. "Oh no! How am I going to say this? What if he hates me because of this?" Christian's thoughts raced._

_"What must you say, Christian?" Erik had asked, his eyes gazing into Christian's, as though the answer would be there._

_"Perhaps I'm wrong to say this, as you are my teacher... but you are also a friend, Erik. How can I bring myself to say this?"_

_"Say what?" Erik asked, more puzzled._

_"That I love you..."_

_Erik's eyes went wide._

_"It's true, Erik. I hope that you're not angry, because I do love you... from what little you've said of yourself, I wish very much to live my life with you... but I see that you do not feel the same, as I am a man."_

_Erik was taken aback by the announcement._

_Christian was afraid that Erik would turn against him and readied himself to run should Erik attack him._

_Tears had burned his eyes. What if Erik didn't feel the same?_

_But his fears were soon cleansed from him._

_"Christian...!" Erik's voice held disbelief, but not horror. Christian was unsure of what to do._

_Erik had embraced Christian tightly, kissing him. "You will probably never realize fully how happy you've made me, Christian!" was Erik's answer._

_

* * *

_

_"Erik, I never thought that I could be so happy... these past days together have been so wonderful...!"  
Erik had beamed at him in response to those words.  
"I love you, Erik..." he had said, planting a kiss upon Erik's cheek.  
Erik had ached for so long to hear those words said to that name... and, here, a lovely young man that he had longed for was saying it to him.  
He was so overwhelmed that he embraced Christian, resting his head on Christian's shoulder. He gasped, trying not to completely break down. After several moments, he mustered up his strength and looked into his beloved's face._

_"I've waited for so long to hear those words said to me...! I love you too, Christian! I love you more than words could ever convey...!" he squeaked, tears of joy were pouring from his eyes. He and Christian leaned in for another kiss. Starting out gentle, the waves of passion overtook them..._

_But their kissing became so impassioned that Erik's mask slipped off..._

_Christian looked at his lover's face and gasped in surprise. The right side of his face had several craggy growths, with a small seersucker trail leading away from the corner of his mouth across the cheek. The skin had a deep red color to it, as if he'd been burned by something. Some of his silken hair was missing on the right of his scalp. The right side of his nose was missing some flesh around the nostril.  
_

_Erik panicked, turning his face away from Christian._

_Christian was horrified... but the fear that really tore at him after the initial surprise was the thought of what this dear man must have endured. He was frightened by the deformities of his face, but he had seen Erik's soul... he saw beauty there, not terror..._

_"Erik..."_

_"Christian...?" Erik's voice was tense. He turned around, covering the right of his face with his hand, "You're still here...!"_

_"Yes... Erik, you need not hide your face!"_

_"You... you're not afraid...?" Erik said in surprise._

_"No, love, of course I'm not." Christian blinked, quickly studying Erik's face. "What's happened to you?"_

_Erik winced, trying to conjure up the courage to tell Christian. Taking a deep breath, he began.  
_

_"I was born with this deformity, Christian. My mother was terrified and disgusted when she caught sight of my face for the first time. She said so herself many times to me."_

_Christian was dumbstruck. A mother would actually do that to her own child?_

_"My family was largely of Gypsy descent, and we were not well-off... we were barely making ends meet. I had taken to wearing masks at an early age, but even with the mask I couldn't walk the streets without being jeered, humiliated, and shunned. It was either mockery while wearing the mask or mockery along with horrified glances and contempt whilst not wearing it... my mother... nothing I could do would make her love me, and my father's acceptance of me was limited. What was there for me to do but run away? I couldn't bear living with them anymore..."_

_Christian's face was pale and taut with horror.  
_

_"I simply could not take the neglect and hatred that they gave to me any longer, Christian... what was I to do but run away?"_

_"But, Erik, how were you able to manage...?"_

_Erik hushed Christian with a finger to his beloved's lips._

_"I was happy to be rid of my mother... but my relief was short-lived. I though that joining a travelling fair would offer some support for me, and it did somewhat... but I had not considered that even there, there was cruelty reserved for me. The beatings that I received from my mother were recalled for me by the guards at the fair. When I didn't obey them, they whipped me, beat me with heavy sticks..."_

_Christian was well-aware that cruelty and hardship were widespread, but this? Why should somebody so intelligent, so wonderful as his Erik have to suffer it? _

_"... even here, in this lair, after the abuse had ended, the memories will linger, sometimes I swear that I can still feel the beatings... I nearly ended myself..."_

_Christian's heart jumped at these words. He felt the warmth of tears pricking his eyes, but he forced them back. _

_"... I'm happy that I have not. Without you and Estelle, would I have ever known happiness at all?"_

_Christian winced as the descriptions of the dreadful times that his beloved Erik suffered rang in his mind. His breathing was heavy... finally he could not hold his emotion back any longer. Tracks of tears glistened on his face in the candle-light.  
_

_Erik hesitated, worry clouding his face as he saw his beloved's grief, "You won't leave me or resent me, will you? For what I've been?"_

_To Erik's surprise, Christian pulled him into a warm embrace._

_"I'm not leaving you, my angel... I don't care what your face looks like; it is dear to me... remember that I love you, Erik..." Christian's voice quivered. He wept for his beloved, wishing that he could heal all of those old wounds that scarred Erik in body, mind and soul.  
_

_They could say nothing. There was nothing that needed to be said._

_Erik had shed many tears that night... tears of relief that he'd not been spurned again, that the boy that held him loved him. Loved him enough to gracefully accept his face._

* * *

"...Belle and I were childhood friends, Erik. Nothing more." Christian reassured Erik as they left the table, walking toward their bedchamber. 

"She has not seen you for several years?" Christian nodded... but his eyes suddenly clouded with worry.

"She's a wonderful friend... but I'm worried about what might happen if she discovers us...!"

"Hush...," Erik crooned, "Do not think of it, love. She is behind us for tonight, Christian...

_Night-time sharpens,  
heightens each sensation . . .  
Darkness stirs and  
wakes imagination . . .  
Silently the senses  
abandon their defenses . . .  
_  
Erik's smooth tenor sent a chill of delight through Christian... the thought of his lover singing for him was intoxicating...

_Slowly, gently  
night unfurls its splendour . . .  
Grasp it, sense it -  
tremulous and tender . . .  
_

Christian found his shirt being unfastened. Erik's slow, gentle manner sent shivers through him.

_Turn your face away  
from the garish light of day,  
turn your thoughts away  
from cold, unfeeling light -  
and listen to  
the music of the night . . ._

Erik stroked Christian's dark curls. Yes. Jezebelle and the world were aside... the night was theirs now to share...

_Close your eyes  
and surrender to your  
darkest dreams!  
Purge your thoughts  
of the life  
you knew before!_

Christian, desirous, but wanting Erik to be pleasured, succeeded in removing Erik's soft, white shirt. He trembled at the sight of the tight muscles that glided beneath Erik's skin, the silken hair that was sprinkled about his abdominal and pectoral muscles. Muscles that possessed great strength... but Erik was so gentle with him. Erik would never intentionally hurt Christian... Christian planted gentle kisses along Erik's exposed shoulders, making his beloved shiver a bit... Erik kept on with his singing, though.

_Close your eyes,  
let your spirit  
start to soar!  
And you'll live  
as you've never  
lived before . . ._

Erik's long fingers ran delicately along Christian's bared shoulders, arousing him further... yes, they were together... now they were free from the confines of the opera house, of society...

_Softly, deftly,  
music shall caress you  
Hear it, feel it,  
secretly possess you_

Erik ran his hands over Christian's smooth, white bosom, teasing the taut nipples, smiling slyly at his amour.

_Open up your mind,  
let your fantasies unwind  
In this darkness which you know you cannot fight  
The darkness of the music of the night_

_Let your mind start a journey  
through a strange, new world  
Leave all thoughts of  
the world you knew before  
Let your soul take you where you long to be  
Only then can you belong to me_

_Floating, falling,_

Erik opened his arms to Christian. His warm flesh made Christian gasp as he came into contact with the taller man. Soft, masculine hands caressed their way over his flesh.

_sweet intoxication!  
Touch me, trust me  
savour each sensation!_

Erik's hands explored the fair flesh of Christian's back, one of his hands teasingly descending to Christian's backside.

_Let the dream begin,  
let your darker side give in  
to the power of the music that I write -  
the power of the music of the night . . ._

Erik's mask was smooth and warm under Christian's hand. He gently slipped it off of Erik's face... Erik shivered with joy.

Erik's lips beckoned to Christian's lips invitingly. Christian, trembling, closed the gap between their lips.

Gently breaking the kiss, Erik looked tenderly onto Christian's face.

_You alone can make my song take flight -  
help me make the music of the night . . .  
_  
Their lips met again, like silk gliding against silk. Christian cuddled into Erik's form as they settled into their bed...

Erik propped himself up on the bed. His eyes were hungry as he eyed Christian's pale, slim body laying beside him. He shivered as he beheld at his lover's beauty. Christian looked like a sculpture of Apollo to him, like a sacrifice to the gods.

Christian gazed at Erik standing there. The tall, sinewy frame of his beloved stood there beside the bed, looking at him in a similar fashion... clearly very aroused... Christian could not resist how beautiful Erik truly was...

Recognizing that amorous look, Christian melted with joy, holding his arms out... the two naked bodies came into contact with each other. They writhed about on the bed, dousing each other with kisses, Erik making sure that his weight wouldn't hurt Christian...

* * *

They settled into the bed, exhausted from their enjoyment of each other. 

"I love you, Christian." Erik's eyes were tired but happy as he cradled Christian's head on his chest, their hands lightly exploring each other.

Christian smiled at hearing this, nestling into the soft thicket of hair on Erik's chest.

"I love you too, Erik." Christian lifted his head, planting a deep kiss on Erik's lips, which Erik was more than happy to return.

* * *

_"Why was the door locked?... and who was in there with Christian?" _Belle thought in horror at the possibilities. She'd heard a male voice in there... a tenor, but distinctly darker and huskier in timbre than Christian's._ "What has happened here...?"_


	3. Trouble brewing

Christian sighed tiredly as he awoke. He stretched to best that he could as to not awaken Erik. A weary smile crept over his tired lips as he watched Erik's gentle breathing. With the right side of his face turned away from him, Christian nearly forgot in those moments that Erik had to conceal his face much of the time, save for when they were together, with nobody else around.

_"How could such a dear man be branded as so horrible?"_ Christian mused, _"I won't deny that he's, well... quite homely... but he's adorable for me, nonetheless!"_

Erik stirred and opened his eyes gingerly. Placidly, he turned over to face his beloved, his face lighting up as he saw Christian.

"Good morning, darling." Erik said tiredly as he pulled Christian in for a kiss.

"Good morning, love." Christian murmured, smiling as they gazed into each other's eyes. Christian caressed the scarred side of Erik's face and then cuddled into the warmth of Erik's exposed bosom. The soft thicket of hair tickled his face.

"I missed you... while you were asleep." Erik spoke into Christian's dark curls. They rested there for several moments, enjoying each other's presence.

Still sleepy, Christian suddenly wondered about the time, although he really didn't want to go back up to the opera house. Being in Erik's arms was good enough for him. "Erik, what time is it?"

Fumbling for his watch on the table nearby, Erik found that it was almost ten-thirty.

"You'd better go, love. It's ten-thirty. They'll be looking for you."

"Ten-thirty!" Christian leapt from the bed, grabbing up his clothes. Erik looked on, slightly amused by the sudden rush, and rose too, his eyes occasionally gazing at his sweetheart's pale body as they dressed.

* * *

"_Yellow parchment is his skin... a great black hole serves as the nose that never grew... the right of his face is laden with craters and boulders... he will catch you with his magical lasso..."_

Among other things, these were the most distinct things that Christian heard from Buquet as he and Erik approached the opera house.

Christian's lip curled back into an angry sneer at what he was hearing. He was stunned at first when he first saw his lover without his mask... but that was months ago; now he could not care less about what his darling Erik looked like. The twisted right side of Erik's face did not hold any horror for him anymore

He and Erik exchanged a look as they listened. Suddenly Erik pulled back his cape. Christian's eyes widened with horror, knowing what Erik was about to do.

"No Erik-!" he began... but it was too late.

They materialized before the chorus girls and Buquet. The chorus girls shrieked and clustered around Buquet, raising their hands to the level of their eyes. Christian rolled his own eyes as he recalled that story.

Back in the guise of the Phantom, Erik's eyes, soft and vulnerable when he was alone with Christian, had become harsh and piercing as he glared at Buquet. As they rushed off, they heard Madame Giry chastising Buquet.

"_Those who speak of what they know find too late that prudent silence is wise,"_ Chistian heard a loud slap and Buquet groan, _"Joseph Buquet hold your tongue...!"_

Christian smiled, grateful for Madame Giry.

* * *

"What is this?" Firmin snarled in frustration. "First Ubaldo Piangi takes ill and now Christian Daaë has vanished!" The business with the Opera Populaire tenors was becoming a bad one. And the mysterious "Opera Ghost" had sent them rather unsettling messages concerning the performance from the previous night and a payment to him.

Andre looked over his note, his brow knitted with frustration and confusion.

_"Dear Andre,_

_what a charming gala!_

_Christian was in a word sublime!_

_We were hardly bereft_

_when Piangi left -_

_on that note_

_that divo is horrific;_

_is terrific _

_when he's seasons past his prime?"_

Firmin fared no better as he read his note.

_"Dear Firmin,_

_just a brief reminder:_

_my salary has not been paid._

_Send it care of the ghost,_

_by return of post_

_P.T.O.:_

_No-one likes a debtor,_

_so it's better_

_if my orders are obeyed!"_

"Who on Earth sent these?" Andre groused. "Do you expect me to know?" came Firmin's pithy response.

"Of course I'm not! I was being ironic!"

"Both are signed 'O.G.'. Who on Earth-?"

Their eyes went wide. They'd answered their own question.

"What right does he have to order us about?" Andre said tartly.

"And he expects us to pay him? He's mad!"

Before Andre could say anything more, Jezebelle burst into the office, her hair wild, her face perplexed.

* * *

Jezebelle had ran into their office the night before as they were cleaning the place up, ready to depart for the night, claiming that Christian had vanished. They told her to go home, that they would see to it... but nothing came of the morning search.

"Where is Monsieur Daaë? Where is he?" she shrieked.

"How are we supposed to know?" an already frustrated Andre growled.

"You don't know?"

"We do not," Firmin sighed in exhasperation.

"Then who sent me this note?"

"Another note?" Firmin cringed at the thought of having to read another note.

"What is it this time?" Andre took the note and looked at it wearily.

_"Do not fear for Monsieur Daaë._

_The Angel of Music_

_has him under his wing._

_Make no attempt to see him again."_

"Then who wrote this?" Jezebelle screamed at the baffled managers.

"Where is your precious little patron?" a harsh tenor voice trumpeted. Piangi and Carlotta barged into the room, with Piangi brandishing yet another note.

"Welcome back." Firmin tried to dispel the soured mood with little success.

"I have a note that I'm not happy about... Mademoiselle de Chagny!" Piangi addressed Jezebelle with disdain.

"I beg your pardon?" Jezebelle replied, slightly insulted by this sudden onrush of blame toward herself. "I have sent nothing to you, Signor!"

Almost shoving the note in her face, Piangi demanded that Jezebelle read the note. Taking the paper from Piangi's hand, Jezebelle read yet another cryptic message.

_"Your days_

_at the Opera Populaire are numbered._

_Christian Daaë_

_will be singing on your behalf tonight._

_Be prepared_

_for a great misfortune,_

_should you attempt_

_to take his place."_

"Why is there all of this hubbub about Christian Daaë...?" Andre groaned. At that moment, Madame Giry and Meg stepped into the room.

"Monsieur Daaë has returned." Madame Giry said dryly.

"I trust that his midnight oil has been well-used." Firmin snorted. Madame Giry glared at him.

Jezebelle leapt towards her. "Where is he?" she inquired eagerly.

The older woman stepped back, keeping her distance from the eager young lady.

"I thought it best that he was alone."

"He was weary." Meg added.

"May I see him-?"

"No, mademoiselle, he will see nobody." Madame Giry said curtly.

"What about tonight? Will he sing?" asked Carlotta.

"I have a note." Madame Giry produced a note from the folds of her skirt.

Everybody clustered around her, ready to hear the news.

"Please!" Firmin took the note, reading it... the Phantom's voice seemed to speak the words aloud.

_"Gentlemen, I have now sent you several notes of the _

_most amiable nature, detailing how my theatre is to be _

_run. You have not followed my instructions._

_I shall give you one last chance . . ._

_Christian Daaë has returned to you,_

_and I am anxious his career_

_should progress._

_In the new production of "Manon",_

_you will therefore cast Piangi_

_as Guillot, and put Monsieur Daaë_

_in the role of Des Grieux._

_The role which Monsieur Daaë plays_

_calls for charm and appeal._

_The role of the Guillot has neither -_

_which makes my casting,_

_in a word..._

_ideal._

_I shall watch the performance from my normal seat in _

_Box Five, which will be kept empty for me. Should _

_my commands be ignored, a disaster beyond your _

_imagination will occur._

_I remain, Gentlemen,_

_Your obedient servant, O.G."_

"Christian!" Carlotta shrieked. "It's all a plan to help that insignificant chorus boy!"

Piangi threatened to leave the opera house unless he would be cast alongside his beloved Carlotta.

"Does nobody care about me anymore?" he bellowed, "Mai non insulti la I stata in modo da!"

"Signor Piangi, please," Firmin groaned, "Why would we send you away?"

"I'm sure that you want that untalented ingenue of a tenor and not a real talent like Ubaldo!" Carlotta snapped, "Che cosa accadrà noi se esige la nostra fama?"

Firmin and Andre looked wearily at the distraught Italian divi and looked at Madame Giry, who gave them an equally distressed look.

"Silence!" Firmin roared, fed up by the tantrum. "Christian Daaë will play Guillot! Piangi will play Des Grieux, the lead role!"

"You're just trying to please me, that's all!" Piangi howled, "Rifiuto di giocare qualche cosa affatto a meno che gioc il hero con il mia Carlotta cara!"

"We're leaving if you're just saying this to appease us!" Carlotta shrieked, "O Dio! Perchè? Sarà l'estremità di noi!"

"Non posso vedere la conclusione di questo! Don't deny it; you want Monsieur Daaë, the world wants Monsieur Daaë!" Piangi barked.

"No Signor, the world wants _you_. I assure you that this is so!" Andre pressed.

"Yes. We are speaking the truth." Firmin coaxed.

The two Italian singers looked at their managers long and hard. A slow smile over their lips showed that they were convinced.

"Come, cara mia, we must prepare for tonight!" Piangi took Carlotta by the arm as they strode from the office.

"Christian spoke of an angel... but what could this mean?" Belle thought, semi-aloud. She couldn't say it to the managers. Perhaps they would think her mad.

"_So you suspect something, do you?" _Madame Giry thought. Although Belle had spoken more to herself, Madame Giry heard her clearly.

* * *

Far below them, two amber eyes glittered with fury. "So it is to be war between us... remember, my fine friends: if my commands are not met, a disaster beyond your imagination will occur!"

* * *

There is an opera by Jules Massenet entitled _Manon _(1880s or so) and another by Giacomo Puccini, _Manon Lescaut_ (mid-1890s). I own neither of them, and I'm showing neither of them in this story; just an opera based on the plot of these operas. 


	4. Disobeyed

"I shall be sitting in Box Five. I would like to see this 'Phantom'."

Andre and Firmin looked at Belle incredulously. "Mademoiselle, are you sure that's wise?"

Belle waved them away. She would not let some phantom get in her way to see Christian, even if he was in a less than savory role. "Besides, gentlemen, there are no other seats available."

The managers sighed and walked away, not wanting to argue anymore.

* * *

Meanwhile, Erik glared at them from a hidden perch. _"You've disobeyed me! You've not only taken my seat, but you're not doing justice for Christian! I want his career to progress, not Piangi's career!"_ he thought sourly, then focused his glare on Belle. _"And you. I see that you love Christian. He's not yours! You will leave him alone! ...All right. If that's how you want to play it, then prepare to pay a price."_

* * *

The French Revolution drama of Manon was well underway. In the churchyard where Manon had stopped Des Grieux from becoming a priest, the lovers, Des Grieux(Piangi) and Manon(Carlotta), were embracing, happy at being reunited after Manon was taken by a wealthy suitor... when the spurned Guillot intruded, jealous of Manon's love for Des Grieux. 

Des Grieux (Piangi) and Guillot (Christian) prepared to duel, both of them insanely jealous over the affections of Manon. They glared at each other, their swords whistling through the air as they drew them.

Belle smiled ridiculously as she gazed at Christian. "I do wish that he had gotten the role of Des Grieux. He would be wonderful in that."

Christian smirked inwardly as he glanced at Carlotta, who was standing stiffly to the side, trying to look distraught... and failing terribly to do so.

"A damsel in distress, maybe, but a fair damsel in distress?" Christian thought as he glared at Piangi, staying in character, "Carlotta, theater is about acting, not about screeching, amateur acting, and tantrums. And Piangi, you might be good vocally, but you look far from a young, lovestruck boy. Honestly!"

Piangi's aria was to declare the prize of the victor and the fates of all of them when suddenly a booming voice cut him off.

"DID I NOT INSTRUCT THAT BOX FIVE WAS TO BE LEFT EMPTY?"

Christian recognized Erik's voice, and it was clear to him that Erik was far from happy. "He's here!" he heard Meg whisper backstage.

"I knew this would happen!" Christian whispered to himself, perfectly aware that there would be much trouble since things were not going as Erik had planned.

"Be quiet!" Carlotta hissed. "Little toad!" Piangi snarled at him.

But Erik heard them.

"Excusez-moi? A toad? No, it is you who are the toads, signor et signora."

There was an awkward silence over the theater.

Beginning over, Piangi started singing when he let out a croak- Christian almost snorted at the sound. Giggles gripped his stomach, but he tried hard not to laugh. He heard Erik laughing too, which tickled him even more.

Piangi tried to sing, but it was no use; every time he tried to sing, a loud toad's croak escaped his throat instead, growing louder with each croak; the more he croaked, the louder Erik laughed.

"Behold! He is singing to bring down the chandelier!" Erik's voice crowed. The enormous, ornate chandelier was trembling, the crystal beads tinkling as the light fixture shook, but the audience was largely unconcerned, for they were too busy laughing.

Enraged, with the audience in hysterics, Piangi rushed offstage, swearing loudly in Italian. Carlotta, sobbbing loudly in distress, dashed after him, leaving Christian on-stage, beholding this awkward situation. Firmin and Andre quickly dashed onto the stage to quiet the audience down.

"Ladies and gentlemen, the performance will continue in 15 minutes time, when the role of Des Grieux will be played by Monsieur Christian Daaë," Firmin pulled Christian forward to show him to the audiance. The swath of gentlemen in evening suits and ladies in fanciful gowns stood up and cheered as they saw the young man with the voice that they had came to hear.

"To pass the time, we bring you the ballet from act two of tonight's opera." looking hopeless, they turned to Reyer and the orchestra, waiting for them to begin the ballet. Reyer looked up at them with a perplexed look, and then, in a huff, he ordered the musicians to turn to the ballet.

Christian looked at them, perplexed, then walked offstage to change.

There was a great hustle and bustle backstage as the workers and performers ran this way and that, hurriedly seizing the props, struggling into costumes and shoes. Christian wove his way through the melee as he made his way to his dressing-room.

"Erik really does like things to go his way in these productions..." he mused, looking back at the struggling cast and crew sympathetically, "maybe this will be all. I hope to God that he doesn't do anything foolish! Lord knows what could happen!"

He shuddered, knowing what Erik was capable of. There would probably be something even worse.

* * *

The backdrop fell loudly to the stage, startling the dancers. Having struggled into their costumes, they were exasperated with the sudden change in plans. The audience emanated with soft laughter at the backdrop falling suddenly. The hapless dancers nonetheless tried to get through the ballet. 

Meg saw something going on above them in the catwalks. It was the Phantom! And there appeared to be some sort of scuffle going on up there. She nevertheless tried to concentrate on the dancing... suddenly Joseph Buquet's unconscious body fell to the stage from the catwalk above, landing with a sickening thud. She screamed in horror. The dancers scattered.

A distraught Firmin and Andre rushed onto the stage.

"Ladies and gentlemen, remain in your seats!"Firmin urged, "It was an accident, simply an accident!"

Christian heard Meg scream and dashed out, nearly finished with his Des Grieux costume, and discovered the unconscious Buquet.

_"Erik! What have you done?"_ he thought, reeling from shock.

Belle gasped in horror at the sight of a body on the stage floor. She left Box Five and ran backstage, hoping that everyone was all right... that Christian was all right.

Knowing that Erik had probably retreated to the roof, Christian bolted up the stairs, hoping to find him... but he found upon reaching the roof that Belle had followed him.


	5. Endangered

"_Forgive me Christian...!"_ Erik thought as he paced on the rooftop in the chilly air, _"Was I wrong to attack Buquet? Perhaps. He was driving me mad with those stories about myself... but what now? What will Christian say to me?"_

His attention was drawn to some activity nearby on the roof. Instinctively, he hid himself behind a statue of an angel.

"Belle!" Christian thought that his flight to the roof was fairly discreet, but how had she been able to find him? Was she that fast?

"Christian, are you all right?" Belle's eyes scanned him.

"_She's followed him!"_ Realized Erik, _"What does she want now?"_ Frustrated at her interference, he stayed silent and listened.

Christian was not especially happy to see her. "I'm quite all right, Belle... if you please, I need some moments alone and-."

But Jezebelle brushed that aside as if he had said nothing. "Christian," she said, her voice serious, "I've been wanting to say this for so long, and however difficult it will be to say it... I love you..."

She was amazed at her own courage. She never thought that she would be able to get it past her lips. But there. She'd said it. To a childhood friend that she'd admired.

Christian had sensed something. He wasn't surprised, but it was still a jolt to him to hear it. "In love with me?" he inquired, not believing what she'd just said.

"Yes, very much so!" Jezebelle said, impassioned. She stepped closer to him. "I was taken by the sight of you singing like you were on the night of your debut, but you've kept me spellbound since that day we met on the Seine. You've been a wonder for me... I've thought about you for so long...

"Oh Christian...!" Belle, overcome with emotion, started towards Christian, ready to embrace him.

Christian was more startled than ever._"What! Oh no, I knew that something didn't feel right around her!"_ It frightened him that not that a childhood friend was in love with him, but a woman. He adored his mother, he loved Meg and her mother... he loved all of his female friends. But he had no interest in being in love with a woman. These advances that Jezebelle was making frightened him.

"Please, no, Belle...!" Christian said abruptly, stepping back. "I am flattered, but I can't... I love you, but as a friend..." He sighed, relieved that he'd let the words out.

Erik did the same. _"Thank goodness! I was afraid of what she might do!"_ he thought, peering out from behind the statue.

Belle gaped at him. Christian Daaë, the boy who had saved her hat, who said that he loved her many a time in their childhood, had refused her?

Jezebelle did not hide her disappointment. "Christian, I know that many men will refuse... I should have know that this would come,..." then she realized something. She'd been suspicious about the mysterious visitor in Christian's dressing room. Could Christian be of _that_ kind? The "temperamental" sort? She had sensed that something was off with him, but wasn't sure of what.

"Who was that man in your dressing room?" Her voice accusing.

Christian stared at her, startled. _"What? Did I hear that right?_"

"Jezebelle, that is not your concern-!"

"Do you have a man in your life? Are you of the temperamental sort?"

Horror settled over Christian's face... his pale face flushed red with fury.

Erik's eyes went wide. _"She suspects us? I didn't expect her to come back so soon!"_

"Christian, the Bible has clearly stated that it is forbidden to for a man to lie with another man. It's defiance against Adam and-."

But Christian barely heard what she was saying. He knew that many out there would hate men of his kind, the men who "preferred" masculine love over the love of a woman. But a childhood friend saying this awoke him with an enormous shock.

"_Jezebelle de Chagny! How could I have ever befriended you? You deceived me, you lied to me, you demon!"_

Erik grimaced, growing angrier by the moment, but kept himself hidden.

"The right girl will cure you of this illness, this..."

Christian had enough. He slapped her... hard. Jezebelle staggered, falling to the floor.

"A leopard never changes its spots and a whore like you never changes her way with men! I can't believe I ever befriended you, you traitor, you harlot!" he snapped.

Tears ran down Jezebelle's face... but her pain suddenly turned to cunning. "What would Firmin and Andre say about this?" her lips twisted into an icy smile.

It took Christian all of his might to not show fear. "I have done nothing, you wretched girl. What I do is none of your pathetic business. Now do as I said to you. Leave me!" he started to approach her, his fists balled up.

Jezebelle knew that she shouldn't argue with him, but she could see that he was not telling the truth. _"You say that you have done nothing, yet you are unusually defensive toward such sinful people..."_ she thought. She rushed away, back into the warmth of the opera house.

* * *

No sooner than Jezebelle left, Erik stepped out of the shadows. He'd heard every word.

Christian felt his strength leave him as he saw his lover. "Erik...!" he mouthed feebly. He felt black fabric wrap around him.

"Christian, angel...!" Erik whispered into the dark waves of hair. Warm tears oozed from Christian's eyes.

"Hush, darling. I'm here... it's all right...!" Erik murmured. _"Oh goodness...! Don't cry, love. It breaks my heart to have you in such pain."_

"What will we do, Erik...? She knows...!"

"Don't be afraid, Christian... I'll see to it that she'll keep her rotten mouth shut."

Christian mourned. Mourned the death of his mother, the prejudice that threatened to swallow him and Erik up, and now the danger that they would be betrayed by his own friend, now a threat.

He trembled.

Erik held Christian a few moments longer and said "You'd best go back, Christian. They'll wonder where you are."

Christian hung his head, overwhelmed by the evening. "Erik, were you mad? Killing Buquet...? What will become if..."

Erik placed his fingers upon Christian's lips. "He is not dead, Christian. He is merely drugged. He will awaken the same as he was, but perhaps he will be wiser before saying anything ill of me."

Christian sighed, relieved... but that did not take away from the drama of what happened only moments ago. Stray tears traced down his cheeks, but Erik leaned in and kissed them away.

"Erik-" he said suddenly, not knowing what he wanted to say.

But Erik was gone.

Christian dashed back down the stairs, wanting to finish changing costumes.

* * *

"_I thought that I had put most of my suffering behind when Christian and I began our love..."_ Erik recalled the beatings, the harshness of his mother, the nights of terror... he did his best to not let them take over him and communicate them to Christian calmly. Now an obsessive young noblewoman wanted his beloved.

He sighed tiredly, thinking about setting aside his composing for the night. His tiredness slipped away momentarily at the thought of Christian and himself in their boudoir...

"Erik?"

Erik looked up from his violin-playing. Christian stood in the doorway, his eyes ringed with darkness in the candlelight. He looked exhausted, frightened.

"What is the matter, love?"

Christian gazed at Erik. His mask was lying on a nearby table, his shirt undone, his eyes gazing deep into Christian's eyes, searching for an answer.

Christian winced, scared to death that this precious image would be shattered.

"It's Jezebelle, isn't it?" Erik sighed with realization. Christian nodded, his face somber and pinched with anxiety. He was breathing rather heavily. Erik knew that look, and it broke his heart to see Christian thus. Erik reached his arms out to him.

"Come, darling...!" Obeying that gentle command, Christian gave a soft cry as as he felt the soft fabric that covered Erik's shoulder.

"Erik, I...!" Christian's voice was muffled.

"Shhh... hush, dearheart..." a knot in Erik's throat grew hard as he felt Christian's tight, frightened embrace. They stayed there, crying silently for much of the night.


	6. Masquerade

It was New-Year's Eve, the annual masquerade ball... six weeks after the chaotic night that forced the cancellation of _Manon_. 

Christian stood off to the side of the room, politely declining any offers to dance from the ladies... and especially when Jezebelle came into view. He fled whenever he saw her, trying to blend into the crowd of masks and costumes. She was the last person that he wanted to see.

"_Thank goodness for this masquerade. Perhaps she won't recognize me."_ True, perhaps she wouldn't; his mask covered most of his face.

"Christian!" Christian started at his own name, but he recognized the voice. He turned around, relieved to see Meg.

"Meg, it's wonderful to see you!"

"You look lovely in that outfit!" she remarked, eying his costume. He looked as though he'd stepped out of the first act of _Lucia Di Lammermoor_. The mid-Baroque attire did him well.

"You should try for a role in _Lucia_, Christian. You'd make a wonderful Edgardo! Or how about in _Il Trovatore_? You'd do a spectacular job as Manrico!"

Christian nodded gratefully, "You look wonderful yourself in that suit, Meg." Meg was wearing a violet suit and a violet top hat which sported a veil. Her dark mask featured catlike eyes. Meg smiled in appreciation.

"Would you like to dance?" he asked. "Certainly!" accepted Meg. Sweeping onto the dance floor with other couples, they continued chatting.

"Why so withdrawn, Christian? You seem shy tonight."

Christian hesitated. "To be honest, Meg, I've been trying to avoid Mademoiselle De Chagny."

"But why? She seemed eager to see you, from what I've heard..."

Christian hesitated, "It's an awkward situation, Meg- I'm not sure if I can say it?"

"Why? What's the matter?" Meg knew very well now that something was not well. The look in his eyes were enough to confirm that, "What has she done to you?"

"_Oh no, not Meg too!"_ Christian thought, afraid that she, too, would turn on him, _"What if she rejects me also?" _He wanted to tell her of his love for Erik and of Jezebelle's suspicions about them, but what if Meg turned out to be like Jezebelle. Would he lose another friend and a potential ally?

"Well Meg...," he fumbled desperately for the right way to declare it, "...I'm in love with somebody, very much so-."

"Well congratulations!" Meg perked up, "who's the lucky mademoiselle-?"

"That's just it, Meg, I wish I could say his name, but..." He winced, not knowing how Meg would take it.

"He?" Meg gazed into his eyes, not sure if she'd heard that right.

"Yes," Christian seemed to deflate, "He."

"Well, I hope that you will be happy with this man!"

"Meg? You don't hate me?" incredulous, Christian gaped at his friend.

Meg smiled to reassure him. "Christian, Henri is also like you are and he's lovely. He and Phillipe are in love. Why should I reject a friend if he loves a man?"

Christian felt strengthened. Henri, one of the male dancers, and Phillipe, one of the stagehands, were also of his kind?

"And Vivienne and Chloé are carrying out their own little love affair too! Why should I be upset about it? They're happy."

"So Erik and I aren't alone...!" he breathed.

Meg looked puzzled. "Erik? Who-?"

Christian smiled a quasi-smile. "He's the one that you ballet girls are always talking about."

Meg gasped. Looking around, she pulled Christian off the dance floor.

"Christian, you're in love with the Phantom?" she whispered.

Christian was dead serious. Not even a hint of a smile could be seen. His eyes were downcast. "You've only seen that part of him, Meg. Erik is the dearest man I've ever met."

"But-!"

Christian hushed her gently. "Meg, he is deformed like Buquet said... that is why he's been so brutal; he's been tormented all of his life by society for his face. He'd been taken into a circus as a child and presented as a freak to the world, even beaten when he defied his masters. His own mother was afraid of him and often said to him that she wished that he'd died when she gave birth to him."

Meg stood there, listening to what information Christian had received from Erik about his past. She was appalled that somebody would be treated so dreadfully. Suffering and misery were not unknown... but at such an appalling level?

She glanced around... Jezebelle was coming their way. Her hair was swept up and adorned with white lace and pink blossoms, her silk dress decorated in very much the same manner, with a daringly low swoop to the neckline. Her beauty captured many an eye from the men... but Christian thought her repellent. Normally, he would have thought of her as quite lovely, but he saw only the enemy within her.

They moved away, towards Madame Giry, who had seen the whole thing.

Madame Giry's wardrobe had not changed much. She wore a black velvet cape and hood over her black dress. Her braids were loosened from their coils and hung down over her shoulders.

"So you told Meg about Erik and yourself, Christian?" she asked, her face serious.

Meg looked at her mother. "Maman, you know about this?"

"Yes, I do, darling. I am a confidant to Erik."

"Honestly, why doesn't she understand that you don't want to see her?" Meg whispered, looking at Jezebelle through her mask in disdain.

"I'm afraid that she has discovered them, Meg." Madame Giry said to her daughter, matter-of-fact.

Meg stiffened. "She's blackmailing you, is she?" she looked at Christian, horrified. Christian nodded. "I'm afraid that she might be doing that, Meg. She at least suspects it. That's why I'm avoiding her."

Before he could speak, Jezebelle barged in on them.

"There you are, Christian! I've been looking for you!" her voice was overly sweet.

"Leave me alone, Jezebelle." Christian fought to control his anger. He could see that Jezebelle's cheerfulness was a front.

"Shall we dance, or shall I tell the whole party what I think you're doing?" her eyes flashed like ice through her grin.

Meg was about to kick her, Madame Giry tightened her grip on her staff... but Christian felt that he had no choice. Grimacing, he swept out onto the dance floor with her, looking at her huge smile in disgust...

* * *

"Behold the ring on my necklace, Christian. Wouldst thou have me as thy bride?" she looked innocently into his eyes... but the young tenor remained silent, scowling at her. 

"_You little shrew, how dare you do this to me!" _Christian thought in anger, _"I love Erik! We have done nothing wrong and if you interfere anymore, I swear that I'll kill you! ...Why me? What have I done to deserve this?" _he thought, exasperated. What was he going to do now? Would Jezebelle keep blackmailing him until she got her way?

He shuddered in horror at the thought of life without Erik, living in a lie, and married to a woman that he loathed.

Fortunately for Christian, the dancers stopped their dance as the lights flickered and dimmed. Everybody's eyes looked towards the stairs in fear. He wrenched himself from Jezebelle's hands and looked.

* * *

There stood a man clad in a lavish, deep scarlet suit and a dark red cape, his head adorned by a large, floppy red hat which was decorated with white and black plumage. He looked very much like a hero from a romantic novel... however, his face was covered by a forbidding skull mask. He advanced slowly, menacingly to where Andre and Firmin stood on the landing with Piangi and Carlotta. 

"_Erik...!"_ Christian recognized him immediately.

"Why so silent, good messieurs?" The mouth of the mask moved as he spoke, sending a chill through the room,

"Did you think that I had left you for good?

Have you missed me, good messieurs?

I have written you an opera! Here I have it- the finished score...

DON JUAN TRIUMPHANT!" he rasped, flinging a heavy book to Andre

"And a few instructions before you begin," he continued, drawing his sword,

"Carlotta must be taught acting, not her normal trick of strutting 'round the stage,"

He taunted an appalled Carlotta, poking the blade into her extravagant feathered hat,

"And Don Juan must lose some weight,"

he poked the blade at an indignant Piangi,

"It's not healthy for a man of Piangi's age...,"

"My fine managers must learn that their talent is in the office,

and not the arts..."

Annoyed but not daring to say anything, Firmin and Andre let him pass...

Erik approached Christian, glaring at Jezebelle through the eyes of his mask, but the hidden anger disappeared as his eyes fell upon Christian.

"And Monsieur Christian Daaë... I've had him in mind for one of the leading roles. It is clear to me that his voice is of the highest quality, and there is no doubt that he will do his best... but he must still learn much... he must return to me, his teacher and guardian..."

Christian's eyes Erik's eyes met through their masks. For a moment they exchanged an intimate look that nobody else saw but them... Meg and her mother watched, their eyes fixed on Erik and Christian. They smiled subtly, feeling joy at the sight of the two lovers.

Turning to Jezebelle, Erik saw the ring on her necklace. He heard all that went on in the opera house, and he had certainly heard Jezebelle. He advanced towards her, glared at her menacingly.

"You have no business with him, mademoiselle," Erik addressed her scathingly. "You will leave him!" he ripped the necklace and ring away and spat in her face. She recoiled in shock and disgust, as did a number of others who watched them.

Before anybody could react, Erik vanished in a cloud of flame. Jezebelle stood there, stunned.

She whirled around to find Christian... but he was gone.


	7. Torn in half

"Madame Giry!" 

The startled ballet mistress whirled around to find Jezebelle

"What is it, child?"

"You know about him!" Jezebelle's face was stern.

"I know nothing more than you do!" Madame Giry tried to dissuade her.

"Yes you do!" Jezebelle snapped. "Tell me! Tell me everything!"

Madame Giry eyed her, not sure if she should trust her. Sighing with defeat, she relented.

"A traveling fair came to Paris years ago, when Meg was still a child. My husband had died recently and Meg and I were living with my parents..." Madame Giry did not want to say anymore, but the young vicomtess had notable status above her, despite that the ballet mistress was an imposing figure herself.

"...I was at the fair, looking at the sideshow of human oddities. Among them was a young man who was said to be a genius. He was; he was said to have built a maze of mirrors for the Shah of Persia, and was an extraordinary composer, an inventor... he had made the plans for this very opera house, and they were accepted... but he was given not notice for them... he was shut in a cage... half of his face was deformed. Deformed from birth, he was dubbed 'the Devil's Child'. I'd gone back to the fair one day to find that they were packing up to leave... the boy had escaped."

Jezebelle watched her with no expression.

"The world forgot him, but I cannot... he has been seen many times since then..." distressed, Madame Giry turned to leave.

"Where are you going, Madame Giry?" Jezebelle called after her.

"I have said too much already!" came the response.

* * *

Christian beheld the new opera that Erik was composing since _Don Juan Triumphant_ was nearly complete. _David et Jonathan_, concerning the Biblical lovers... or, rather, the world preferred to edit the Bible so that they were merely close friends. 

"Erik, this is beautiful...!" Christian had been so taken by the sweeping grandeur of the love theme. Quiet but anguished at first, then gentler, and then a small but breathtaking crescendo. A mildly powerful onrush of lush, gracious, highly emotive music, and then... a small solo created for a flute, during which a rather gentle but empassioned arioso by Jonathan occurred, then a harp solo for David's arioso. Then the music began another crescendo, before long going to mezzo-forte, until a grand climax.

"Do you like it, love?" Erik inquired, his eyes hopeful.

"Of course I do, Erik," Christian smiled at him, "why should I not after saying how beautiful it is?"

"Would you practice le duet d'amour with me?"

Humming a bit, Christian happily complied. They began with the recitative, which rang with fear and drama.

"_Mon père nous suspecte - !"_ Erik sang Jonathan's part in his strong, lush dramatic tenor.

"_Ce qui ? mais pourquoi... ?"_ Christian took David's lines.

Erik continued.

"_Mon amour, il n'est pas sûr de _

_retourner là, de peur que tu mourras - !"_

In David's character, Christian whirled around in distress. The beginning of the duet began.

"_Jonathan, hélas, mon coeur! _

_Ah, étaient il pas pour tu, _

_je mourrait, mon amour..._

_Hélas, devons-nous être séparés...?"_ Cried David's character through Christian's refined but raw and emotive spinto tenor.

"_Mon chéri, m'entendent,"_ Erik/Jonathan reached out his hand to Christian/David, trying to reassure him.

"_Entre dans la paix, _

_parce que autant que _

_nous avons juré tous les deux _

_nous au nom du Seigneur, _

_énonciation, Le Seigneur _

_soient entre moi et tu, _

_et entre ma graine et ta graine pour _

_jamais..._

Where the flute should have taken over, Erik/Jonathan began right on cue.

"_Craign pas, ange, pour _

_de façon ou d'autre nous _

_survivra la colère de mon père. _

_Pleur pas, mon amour... !_

_Je ne peux pas soutenir ta douleur... !"_

Erik/Jonathan abandoned playing the piano briefly, embracing Christian/David, his voice choked with emotion. The grief and longing of the duet was coming out beautifully, but quite raw and harsh still. Christian/David put his pain into his arioso, equally as melodious as Erik's/Jonathan's.

"_Devons-nous, mon ange? _

_Mon aimé, doit-il être que _

_nous devons être distants lointain _

_mais continuer toujours notre _

_amour dans privé? Comment ? _

_Comment devons-nous faire ainsi, aimé... ?"_

The lyrical arioso over,Christian/David began again on the rich, sustained melody.

"_Nous verrons de façon ou d'autre, amour. _

_Mais mon père a toujours _

_la jalousie, et tu deve tu cacher.." _

"_O, un tel destin horrible qui _

_nous force à part ! O Seigneur, je prie _

_que notre ruine ne viendra jamais."_

Christian/David wept to keep with the drama. It wasn't hard for him, for he felt that he was in David's place; Jezebelle desired him, and it disturbed him, frightened him. Was this what David felt like? To be desired by someone, whether it be for death or desire and lust?

"_Est-il vrai que ceci doive être ? _

_Pour vivre ma vie loin loin de celle _

_cette règles au-dessus de mon âme ? _

_Ainsi que ce soit, si je dois la _

_supporter, mais rien plus mauvais pour moi _

_pourrait être que ceci : vie loin _

_de mon chéri pour se sauver..._

_O Seigneur, ont la pitié sur nous, _

_nous a laissés soit sûr de façon ou _

_d'autre, de la prise de qui serait _

_mon père par mariage était _

_lui pas pour ses tentatives _

_de mettre la mort sur moi. _

_Soyons sûrs, O Seigneur m'entendent - !"_

"_Pleure, aimé. Libére ton douleur._

Erik/Jonathan wept with him, half as an act, but half of it was true. He could understand the grief of the two lovers, and it was as though Jezebelle had taken Saul's role and wanted to take his David away from him... but instead of wanting to kill David, this incarnation wanted to marry him... and perhaps even to kill Jonathan.

"_Rappele-tu que tu ave mon coeur _

_et mon amour entièrement._

_Est-ce que je dirais ceci s'il ne _

_pourrait pas être ? Mon amour doux, _

_peut-être mon père nous _

_maintiendra distants dans le corps, _

_mais dans l'âme il n'a aucune _

_puissance au-dessus de nous. _

_Tu rappelleras-tu cela ? J'implore_

_de tu. La musique de ta voix _

_douce sera plus faible, _

_mais j'entendrai que c'étaient toujours _

_lui des milles de distance."_

Then, beginning the grand-finale, their voices merged as one.

_CHRISTIAN/DAVID:_

_/ "Oui, mon aimé!_

_Toujours volonté que_

_je me rappelle! O, mais_

_la douleur qui me frappe._

_Toujours, je ne soumettrai_

_pas à elle! Nous trouverons une_

_manière de façon ou d'autre...!"_

_ERIK/JONATHAN:_

_Oui, mon ange!_

_Oubliez l'ennui, mais_

_rappele-tu moi. M'entendent_

_Nous aimerons de façon_

_ou d'autre toujours, mon ange._

_Il y a espoir pour notre salut._

_Faites- confiancemoi, mon aimé...!_

_BOTH:_

"_Entre dans la paix, _

_parce que autant que _

_nous avons juré tous les deux _

_nous au nom du Seigneur, _

_énonciation, Le Seigneur _

_soient entre moi et tu, _

_et entre ma graine et ta graine pour _

_jamais..." _The duet ended with glorious high notes.

"_Je dois aller. Le père me recherchera."_ Erik/Jonathan sang sadly. They embraced.

"_Adieu, chéri. Je désirerai ardemment pour vous beaucoup..."_ Christian/David sighed.

"_Je t'aime."_ Erik/Jonathan answered.

"_Je t'aime."_ Christian/David responded back.

They embraced with a kiss...

* * *

"Lunacy!" Firmin cried out as he read the libretto to "Don Juan Triumphant". 

"What does he think us to be, imbeciles?" Andre gaped at the libretto in horror.

The score was harsh, grating. It perfectly conveyed fury, agony, longing, and a fear of being discovered. In spite of that, there were lovely, melodic moments... but the story on the other hand...

This opera was filled with forbidden love, sex, and a very intimate relationship between the title character and a young peasant man, Amando.

The managers laughed uncomfortably at the plot.

"Do not tell me that these two men are in love-!" Firmin snickered as he read the lyrics.

There was no denying the undeniable; Don Juan and Amando were indeed lovers. The action and words made that sharp and clear.

"What on earth is this? Could this Phantom, dare I say it, lust after men, or is this some tasteless joke?" Andre's face was set with scorn.

"But we can't refuse this! Buquet was nearly killed with "Manon"! Lord knows what the Phantom will do!"

"What sort of foul joke is this?" Carlotta and Piangi squawked in chorus.

"We have no choice-!" Firmin protested.

"Oh, the things that I must do for my art... if you call this filth art!" Piangi grimaced, highly disliking the subject of the plot, "If you think that will play any part in this opera-!"

"Do not disparage the composer's work. Dare you speak that to his face?" Madame Giry entered the office, cross at hearing the snide remarks toward Erik's opera.

Carlotta reeled at the thought of Piangi playing the lead character.

A bit of a scuffle outside the door distracted them. The door opened to reveal Jezebelle trying to persuade Christian into playing a part in the opera.

"So here's our precious nightingale!" Scoffed Piangi. "I suppose now he'll be useful. I'll let him take the lead." he chuckled, half to himself.

"Please, gentlemen!" Andre addressed the two men.

"I want no part in this, monsieurs, mademoiselles!" Christian gasped, clearly agitated.

"How do we know that, may I ask, monsieur? I tell you all this is a plan to help Christian Daaë! He's the cause of all the trouble!" Carlotta bellowed.

"You wretch, you minx!" Christian snarled, "I want no part in this plot at all!"

"Silence, both of you!" Madame Giry intervened.

Jezebelle approached Firmin and Andre. "Monsieurs, I believe that we have an answer to our problems..." Christian stared at her. He could have sworn that his heart stopped.

"It seems obvious that this Phantom has the vice of the Greeks, if you get my meaning... and has taken a liking to Christian and desires him." Jezebelle said smoothly. Save for Christian and Madame Giry, all else in the room shivered in disgust.

"That explains this rubbish!" Firmin exclaimed. Christian's eyes blazed with anger. Madame Giry tightened her grip on her cane, her eyes were icy.

"The answer is so simple and clear that I cannot understand why we didn't carry it out sooner- carry out his orders!" Jezebelle declared, "Play this, the Phantom's opera, place Christian in the part of Amando, bring in armed guards, his reign of terror will end!" the eyes of the managers and the Italians lit up

Christian reeled. They were going to shoot Erik! He forced back the tears, trying not to think of his beloved's lifeless body being ravaged by angry bystanders.

"This is madness!" Madame Giry cried in horror.

"What? And what do you mean by that, Estelle Giry?" Andre and Jezebelle rounded on her.

It was too late. "Monsieur, mademoiselle, we cannot turn the tide! I know this well-!"

"Help us then!" Firmin yelled.

"I wish that I could, I-!"

"Or could you be on his side!" Jezebelle growled.

"I intend for no ill! We've seen the what he is capable of! I'm warning you-!"

In no time the small office was ringing with arguments. Madame Giry continued trying to defend Christian and Erik discreetly, but to no avail. Jezebelle, Firmin and Andre were intent on destroying the Phantom.

"What glory can this boy gain from it? The urchin's worthless!" Piangi howled, with Carlotta moaning and carrying on in Italian.

"Non dimenticherò mai questo, mai! Ubaldo, il mio amore, non li lascerò giocare in un'opera dove dovete corteggiare un uomo!" screamed Carlotta.

"Now be quiet!" Firmin ordered, "Madame Giry why won't you help-?"

"I wish I could! The Phantom is too strong and too fast, he-!"

"Like I said, Madame Giry, we lure him out with Christian on the stage and we shoot him". Jezebelle protested. Christian tried not to faint as he heard that. The thought of Erik being killed terrified him.

"Ché storia: il fantasma di opera vuole altri uomini e un tenore pietoso del chorus, il suo obiettivo principale, non sembra preoccuparsi!" Piangi crowed.

Christian turned pink with frustration... but from distress also. He urged himself to conceal the contempt that he had for them and what they were saying of Erik and himself.

"Come mai io sopporti pensare a così pensiero disgustoso come due uomini che fanno amore, e tanto meno il mio Ubaldo al Monsieur Christian Daaë? O Dio!" Carlotta howled.

Christian watched the argument in horror. He could be ruined if he stood up for Erik... if not, then Erik would die.

"_What am I to do? There's no way out! I can't let my angel die...!"_ he thought, terrified.

The noise grew unbearably loud. Christian's eyes narrowed as they settled on Jezebelle.

"_You!"_ he thought, infuriated, _"You're the cause of this, you snake! Erik has killed nobody! He merely wants to be left alone!"_

"STOP THIS AT ONCE! I CAN'T BEAR THIS ANYMORE!" he roared, his muscles taut, his face pinched with anger. Everybody looked at him.

"I will not do this. I refuse to play any part in this opera. I want nothing to do with your plan!" he gasped, trying to make his message loud and clear to all of those present.

"Monsieur Daaë, you must do this; we long to be rid of this ghost! I'm sure that you do too, as he apparently is infatuated with you." Andre stated the last few words dryly.

Christian scowled at him inwardly. "No, I want nothing to do with this. Do you understand me?"

"_Erik is not infatuated with me, you imbeciles! He loves me! ... Leave him alone!"_

"Christian, unless you are on his side, you would not refuse this. Why do you-?"

He stared at Jezebelle. He was certain now that she knew. He bristled.

"Be quiet, you wench!" he snapped, openly sneering at her.

"Well! Such ungallant behavior from such a fine young man! Perhaps you are on his side! Perhaps you want him to live!" Piangi taunted.

"Christian, we don't want this... _thing_ lurking around and tormenting us anymore! You must sing!" Jezebelle's voice was hard, and then she batted her lashes at him and said sweetly, "For me?" Christian gritted his teeth, feeling sick to his stomach at the display that she put on.

"Well...?" Jezebelle asked innocently. "Well, Monsieur Daaë? Do you declare? Will you sing? This young lady appears eager for you to do so." Andre joined in.

Christian groaned. He knew that he didn't have much of a choice. Either way that he chose, he would risk so much... either he would be ruined or Erik would die. Now it had been forced upon him. He had to give in. Silently, he relented, cursing Jezebelle under his breath, tears pricking at his eyes as he thought that he and Erik were not free do do anything together as the couple that they were; no holding hands, no stealing a kiss, nothing, lest they be mocked or attacked or even both while the young male and female couples would not be given another glance.

He stormed out of the office in a huff, infuriated, sick to his stomach and with pain welling up in him, with Madame Giry following. Before Madame Giry left, however, she gave Jezebelle a very cold glare, her black eyes flashing like knives. Jezebelle ignored it like she'd been looking at somebody else.

"_So, this Phantom will be gone, and I shall cure my childhood love of this illness that the Opera Ghost has placed on him!"_ Jezebelle thought gleefully. In her joy, she understood little of the pain that she had inflicted on her desired suitor.


	8. Tormented soul

Christian sat numbly on his bed, not believing that it would happen. Erik was in greater danger now than he had been in a long time. Sobs racked him as it finally sunk in. 

"_They're going to kill him! Oh, God, I can't believe this! This is my worst nightmare!"_

Erik was the Opera Ghost, the Phantom of the Opera to all of those who worked at the Opera Populaire... but he was Christian's Angel of Music, his guardian, his teacher, his friend,... his love. He absolutely adored Erik. He treasured sleeping beside him in the night, the warmth from Erik's body easing the cold of the cellar. How Erik enveloped Christian within his satin cape as they embraced and kissed, the soft, white fabric of Erik's shirt as he nestled his face into it, and the sweet, lingering aroma of his cologne...

All of that would be brought to an end if Erik came to see him sing. The man that he loved would be reduced to nothing... and Jezebelle, not caring nor comprehending that they loved each other, would try her hand at taking him, to turn him into a husband for herself. He shuddered, hating her more than ever.

"_What am I going to do now...?"_ he wondered in anguish. He sunk into the mattress, not caring whether he woke up or not.

* * *

"Those who tongle with Don Juan!" Piangi sang...or rather, squawked... in a wobbly, off-key voice. His pronunciation was far from ideal.

"No, no, Signor Piangi, it's _tang_le! Those who tang-tang-tang-! Now try it again." Reyer corrected him impatiently. He was not very flattered by the opera that had to be produced, as it contained the "Greek Vice".

"Those who tongle with Don Juan-!" Piangi tried again. He sounded better, but still couldn't pronounce the tangle correctly.

"Here, Signor, it's-." Christian tried to be civilized and help, but Piangi rudely slapped him away.

"I like his way better! At least he makes it sound like music!" Carlotta blurted out.

"Would you dare speak that way in the presence of the composer?" Madame Giry shot at Carlotta as a warning.

"The composer isn't here! If he was I would-." Carlotta didn't understand that Erik heard all that was said in the opera house.

"How do you know?" Madame Giry interrupted piercingly, her eyes fixed on the diva's eyes. Carlotta was indignant, but didn't dare say a word.

"THOSE WHO TONGLE WITH DON JUAAAAN!" Piangi's singing broke their ears.

"Who cares! Nobody will notice a difference anyway!" Carlotta said aloud, mockingly.

She and the rest of the cast went on a tangent, singing the music horribly, intentionally mocking Erik's work as Christian stood to the side glaring at them.

"I'm so sorry, Erik...!" he whispered, his eyes watering as he thought of his lover.

As if to berate them and warn them to take the opera seriously, the piano suddenly began playing by itself.

Hating the thought of the risqué lyrics that they were singing, the cast obediently got to work, suddenly singing the music accurately.

"_Poor young maiden, you'll not see_

_Your lord again, for he's left your_

_Side, to fly to his cherie-_

_A fine young man, his paramour-!"_

Christian stood off to the side, watching them. He didn't care anymore. A knot was growing in his throat, growing gradually tighter. He left the rehearsal hall and went to get his cloak. He could bear no more of this.

* * *

"Mama...? It's Christian..."

His voice was husky from emotion. Here, at Perros, his mother had been laid to rest. He glanced around him at the harsh, cold graveyard. Monuments and statues of angels stood about forbiddingly. His warm, loving mother had been laid to rest _here_? He just couldn't accept that... and her gravestone was so plain, so bare... all it said was "Adelheid Olafsdotter-Daaë". Nothing more.

Christian had ached to sneak into the graveyard with a chisel and carve more into the stone. "Beloved mother, operatic nightingale" were the main things that stood out in his mind. Alas, he could not bring himself to do so.

Ten years it had been since she had passed along. He cringed at the dreadful memory of when she was stricken by dreadful coughing in the middle of a performance... bright red blood dripped from her lips onto her dress. The audience was on their feet in moments, gasping in horror... but theirs could not match Christian's fear... he'd seen so much of her attacks of consumption, of her frantic efforts to not frighten him, to not cough in his direction...

Blinking his watery eyes, he spoke softly, hoping that she would hear.

"I hope that you hear me, mama... I wish that you could help me... forgive me, for you would be scandalized, but I am in love with a man. I know, I know that it's against what the Bible says, but this is part of who I am," he trembled at the thought of telling his mother of his "Greek" nature, even if she was dead.

"I'm aware that people think that it can be changed, but that's rubbish; I know very well that it cannot be changed. I've tried so hard to deny it, but I just couldn't fool myself. I would have been miserable being married to a woman and I'd known it for so long... marriage, for me, is not for escape and denial... I wish to be married for love, whether or not I will be able to marry the one that I truly love... I just wish that you could meet your son-in-law..."

The pain gripped his chest, knowing that what he said was true.

"He- mama, the one that I love is the self-same being that you promised that you would send to me. He is my teacher, guardian, friend... and beloved..."

He hesitated. He could not bring himself to say it, but he pressed himself to be totally honest.

"Oh mama, Erik is a very bright one. A composer and inventor, he is... and he's the dearest man that I have ever met... he's been so good to me...! I won't deny how happy that I have been with him. Erik has been discriminated against, mama, for he's been deformed since birth... he's deformed in the face... his mother had often told him that she wished that he'd died when she gave birth to him. She even sold him to a sideshow at a traveling fair to rid herself of him... he is now renowned for being the 'Phantom of the Opera'... and in the very opera house that he designed, though he has not been recognized for it... He has caused trouble around the Opera Populaire, dropping backdrops, making other odd things happen, but he's just trying to defend himself... now they want him dead-!"

He gasped heavily, trying not to break down completely.

"What's worse, Jezebelle De Chagny has found me. My intial joy has now turned to dread... She is in love with me... and she's blackmailing me; she knows about Erik and myself...! Mama, I don't know what to do-! I'm so afraid for Erik! If he dies, what will I do? Oh, mama, help me, please...!

"I- I love you, Mama...!" Christian buried his face in his hands as he knelt over her grave.

"Christian, darling, do not cry..." a familiar voice came from behind him.

"Erik?"

"Hush. 'Tis I, my angel." Erik helped Christian to his feet, gazing into his eyes the whole time. With tears for Christian stinging his own eyes, Erik opened his cape. Christian instinctively stepped into his arms.

"I have heard what went on, Christian. I know what they're trying to do to me." he crooned, stroking Christian's wavy, soft, raven hair,

"Fear not. I am fast. They will not harm me. I promise you that."

He stayed quiet, letting his beloved weep.

"You loved your mother, didn't you, Christian?"

"Very much so, Erik..."

Erik smiled his crooked smile. "I wish that I could have had that. I would have liked to meet her.. To meet who would have been my mother-in-law."

"Oh Erik...!" Christian gasped, overwhelmed.

Despite his pain, Christian felt calmer. Erik tenderly cupped the face of his weeping lover in his hand, wiping away the tears. Planting kisses over the tear trails, Erik brought this mouth closer to Christian's. For a moment in time, wrapped in Erik's strong arms, Christian forgot the anguish of that day and was at peace.

"So it's true!" a feminine voice came from nearby. Jezebelle stood there, a smirk on her mouth.


	9. Point of no return

"Jezebelle, leave us alone!" a startled Christian whirled to face her, his vulnerability disappeared. 

"Won't this be wonderful for me to spread to Firmin and Andre? To say that our divo is under the Phantom's power, smitten with him? But no matter, when we marry, Christian, we-."

"I am not marrying you, Jezebelle!" Christian snarled, "What do you not understand? I love him, Jezebelle. I_ love_ him!"

"Mademoiselle, did it not occur to you that gender does not matter when you love somebody?" Erik addressed her coldly.

"But I love you, Christian-!" she protested.

"If you loved me, Jezebelle, you would not follow me and press me like you have. Now do as I ordered you: go!" Christian felt strengthened by Erik standing with him.

"Very well," she said with knives in her voice, "And I will reveal your liaison-." her eyes filled with coldness.

She turned and ran, but Christian caught up with her.

"Jezebelle, I beseech you! Do not do this to us!" he pleaded.

"As you have spurned me, I shall not keep my sil-!"

Erik shot an electric jolt at her from his slender finger, striking her in the throat. She fell to the stone path. She tried to scream, but no sound escaped her throat.

"Now you need not say anything at all to anybody else should you attempt to reveal us." Erik said dryly.

"But what do you mean? I will tell all about-." that was all that Jezebelle could say. She felt as though she were being strangled.

"That's exactly what I mean, fille de joie! If you so much attempt to speak of our secret, your voice will be reduced to nothing more than a croak." Erik's voice was a harsh growl.

Before she realized it, Erik and Christian had disappeared.

* * *

"_Poor young maiden, you'll not see_

_Your lord again, for he's left your_

_Side, to fly to his cherie-_

_A fine young man, his paramour-!"_

Carlotta screeched, in the role of a maid she spoke to the latest conquest of Don Juan, Meg, who was playing a gypsy dancer.

Meg, put off by Carlotta's screeching, noticed several gasps among the audience. _"It's the subject matter of this opera, isn't it?"_ she thought. Staying in character, she rushed offstage in distress.

Piangi felt quite ill at the prospect of having to make love to a man, let alone to Christian Daaë. But he went along with the plan to capture the Phantom.

"_Passarino, faithful friend,_

_once again I'll close the gate._"

The bass that was playing Passarino countered with

"_Your other guests believe I'm you -_

_I, the master, you, the bait._"

Piangi gave a shudder as her thought of what he had to do later on, but continued.

"_When you met you wore my cloak,_

_they could not have seen your face._

_They'll believe they dine with me,_

_in their master's borrowed place!_

_Furtively, we'll scoff and quaff,_

_hiding what, in truth, is mine._

_When it's late and modesty_

_starts to mellow, with the wine . . ."_

Many in the audience, realizing now that they would be seeing two men making love to one another, laughed uncomfortably.

_-"You come home! I use your voice -_

_slam the door like crack of doom!"_

_-"I shall say: 'come - hide with me!_

_Where, oh, where? Of course - my room!'"_

_-"The poor fools do not understand!"_

_-"Here's my hat, my cloak and sword._

_Conquest is assured,_

_if I do not forget myself and laugh . . ."_

_

* * *

_

Piangi stepped behind the curtain once more, to dress into Passarino's costume. Without warning, a man clothed in black swept toward him, almost silently. Piangi recognized him as the Opera Ghost. His eyes going wide, tried to call for help, but no words escaped his lips. All went black within moments.

* * *

"_So, finally, my darling awaits... and you shall say no more ill of him, Piangi." _Erik thought. 

_". . . no thoughts_

_within his head,_

_but thoughts of joy!_

_No dreams_

_within his heart_

_but dreams of love!"_

Erik smiled as he heard Christian entering from backstage. As Don Juan/Passarino, he sang

_-"Passarino - go away!_

_For the trap is set and waits for its prey . . ."_

Passarino left. There would only be the two of them.

Christian, dressed handsomely, stepped into view.

"_What will I do now?"_ he thought, _"Erik's in danger! How can I stop all of this?"_

He glanced to the orchestra pit, where a guard stood, armed with a rifle. He gulped.

"_You have come here_

_in pursuit of_

_your deepest urge,"_

Christian was startled. He knew that voice. Erik was playing Don Juan/Passarino! He looked downstage to see a black-shrouded figure step out from behind the curtains. Although his face and body were covered up by a cape and a hood, it was clear to him that the figure behind him was too tall and too slender to be Piangi.

"_In pursuit of_

_that wish,_

_which till now_

_has been silent,_

_silent . . ."_

Christian's heart sank. _"Oh Erik, no-!"_ His lover, his Erik was in full view of the audience...and of the guards. Would they recognize him? If they did, then what? But Erik was strong... Christian's heart stirred

"_Past the point_

_of no return,_

_the final threshold -_

_what warm,_

_unspoken secrets_

_will we learn?_

_Beyond the point_

_of no return . . ."_

Christian was spellbound. Erik was singing for him. A mist clouded his mind. He forgot about the guards and the audience. There was only them. Approaching his lover, he sang too, his fear forgotten.

"_I have come here,_

_knowing you are_

_the reason why . . ._

_In my mind,_

_I've already_

_imagined our_

_bodies entwining_

_defenseless and silent -_

_and now I am_

_here with you:_

_no second thoughts,_

_I've decided,_

_decided . . ."_

The audience looked in horror at the two men intimately embracing and openly declaring their love for each other. A close friendship between two men was acceptable... but this? Jezebelle glared at them singing together so intimately, insanely jealous of the Phantom, failing to recognize him for a moment. To understand that he, her rival, was there, singing with Christian.

"_When will the blood_

_begin to rise?_

_the sleeping bud_

_burst into bloom?_

_When will the flames,_

_at last, consume_

_us . . .?"_

Their voices merged into one as they stood there, in each other's arms.

"_Past the point_

_of no return_

_the final threshold -_

_the bridge_

_is crossed, so stand_

_and watch it burn . . ._

_We've passed the point_

_of no return . . ."_

_

* * *

_

Jezebelle realized suddenly why the voice sounded familiar. It was him, the Phantom, who was charming Christian. She was fed up with this. _"So, you mock my love for you, do you Christian?"_ she muttered, her eyes glazed with bitterness, her face a mask of built-up wrath. She signaled to a guard who stood on a balcony.

* * *

"_Say you'll share with_

_me one_

_love, one lifetime . . ._

_Lead me, save me_

_from my solitude . . ."_

Erik held out an amethyst ring for Christian. Christian gasped. He had not expected this. Eagerly, he took the ring, sliding it onto his finger.

"_Say you want me_

_with you,_

_here beside you . . ._

_Anywhere you go_

_let me go too -_

_Christian_

_that's all I ask of . . ."_

He saw the look of horror on Christian's face. Erik followed his gaze to the guards that stood around them. Fingers tightened on triggers...

FOOM! Erik and Christian disappeared in a cloud of flames. Terrified screams filled the theater. The heavy, jeweled chandelier broke loose from the ceiling, crashing toward the stage. Several guards and members of the audience were crushed.

* * *

Many cast and crew rushed toward the curtains to see what was wrong. Meg's eye passed over somebody lying on the floor of the stage. Her scream, more primal than ever, rang through the theater. 


	10. We must flee

"Ubaldo! No!" Carlotta was horror-struck as she dashed over to Piangi's unconscious body, sobbing in anguish at her lover's apparent death. "O, ha ucciso mio caro! O Dio, aiuto! Mio caro! Mio amore...!" 

Jezebelle gaped in horror at these new disasters. _"I have to find Christian! What if something happens to him?"_ she paced for a moment, not sure of what to do... but then she remembered something.

_"That voice in the dressing room...!"_ she broke into a run, dodging terrified theater patrons.

* * *

Christian recoiled in horror at hearing of the chaos that was building up around Piangi's death (or so it seemed to the people above them). And the fallen chandelier! Now the situation was precarious. 

"Erik, are you mad? Why did you have to kill him?"

Erik glared at him. "I only drugged him, Christian. He'll be awake within five hours, but perhaps he will be somewhat wiser before he disrespects us. We don't like him anyway, Christian. He's spoken ill of us so often..."

"But Erik... you shouldn't have come tonight! Why did you come when I asked you not to...?" Christian protested, his voice shrill with anger and panic.

They glared at each other, but the anger was quickly dropped. Now they had larger troubles. Angry cries emanated from above them, uttering curses towards Erik.

_"What do we do now?"_ he felt limp as he watched Erik hurriedly rowing the boat. Neither of them could speak. They hadn't much to say.

* * *

_"So here it is!"_

Jezebelle had searched desperately about the dressing room, looking for some way out other than the door. A button, a switch, any hidden device that would indicate a secret passage of some sort... what was that?

A faint, cold draft wafted from the mirror. She stood there, making sure that she wasn't imagining it. Looking closer, she could see that the mirror's pane was askew.

_"Could this be it?_" she wondered. Eagerly, she maneuvered her fingernails into the small opening and pulled slightly. The pane moved with her! Jezebelle hurriedly pulled the pane aside and gazed into a dim, stone corridor.

Now she ran as fast as she could through the labyrinth. She shrieked and stood frozen for a moment as she passed several mice, which squealed with fright and scampered away at this unexpected visitor. Waiting until the mice had scampered of into the darkness, Jezebelle hoisted her skirts back up and continued running through the dim labyrinth of corridors. It wasn't long before she came across the edge of the lake. She stopped, not sure of where to go next... was it possible that she had to swim across the lake to reach Christian?

She gazed at the black water for a moment, not sure if she should try for it, but she was determined to get Christian.

_"It's now or never. I'm going to get Christian back!"_ she thought.

She pulled off her coat and tore at her petticoats and corset and tossed them aside, preparing to dive into the black water.

"Jezebelle De Chagny, come back here!" an angry voice rang out. Jezebelle whipped her head around to see Madame Giry racing down the stairs, her black skirt hiked up so that she could move easier. "Jezebelle De Chagny, I command you to come back here! You have no business being here!"

Jezebelle ignored her and leapt into the inky lake.

Oh, but it was cold! Jezebelle felt as though she'd been kicked in the chest. But she wasn't giving up...

Surfacing, she could hear Madame Giry's angered shrieks behind her. She set off the best that she could.

She started in surprise as rough cables snaked around her. Jezebelle struggled against them, but she only managed to become more entangled.

* * *

"Erik, where will we go?" 

Erik winced as he held his violin case. He knew that he'd not been away from Paris for a good while, let alone from the opera house. In fact, he'd rarely left the opera house itself. It was very likely that all of Paris would recognize him; if that would prove to be true, then there would be hell to pay. They would need to flee elsewhere.

"We will flee to other parts, my love. To where, I don't know, but somehow, we will manage." Erik tried to keep his voice calm. They had not much time to pack.

Christian nodded, assured that Erik knew what he was doing. They bustled about, trying to gather up their most treasured possessions. They could only take what they could carry, what they needed to survive... anything that would remind them of their home. Erik's manuscripts and violin, Christian's sole photograph of his mother...

Scurrying as they stuffed their belongings into pillow cases, burlap sacks, anything handy, they tried not to look around them as they rushed. The cavern that had been their home, that Erik had worked so hard upon, would be destroyed. Erik's beloved pipe organ, where his glorious music had come to life, would be gone. His music, their bedroom, all of their beautiful furniture, books, and memories were to be demolished in one night. Christian winced from glancing at the dining chamber, the music hall, their bedroom... anything. Tears burned his eyes and he tried to swallow the lump that grew in his throat. Their home. Their beloved home would be gone.

Casting their bags into a pile, Erik turned to face Christian, nervousness flitting across his face.

"Christian-."

"What is it?" Christian was knotted up in distress.

"I'm so sorry for what has happened tonight. I should never have come and I know it, but I wanted to see you... can you ever forgive me?" Erik implored, his eyes pleading.

"Of course, I can, Erik," Christian said tiredly, gazing at his sweetheart with a sad smile on his face, "I wish that you had been more careful, though, but this must be put behind us. I forgive you, love."

"Would you still marry me, Christian?" inquired Erik, dropping to his knee before Christian. His hands caressed their way over Christian's hands, emphasizing the silver and amethyst ring that adorned Christian's ring finger. "Would you?" he asked, looking beseechingly into the sapphire eyes that looked back into his own eyes.

Christian beamed at him, remembering through the chaos the moment when Erik offered the ring to him that evening. Tears shone on his face in the candlelight, framing his smile.

"Of course I will, darling...!" he squeaked.

Erik's face lit up. Rising, he took Christian into his arms. Their lips were like silk upon silk. Breaking away, Christian rested his face in the soft, white fabric of Erik's shirt. He'd found solace for once that night...

A splash caught their attention.

* * *

Jezebelle climbed out of the water in her stockings and chemise. She approached the portcullis, her hair stuck to her forehead and clinging to her shoulders. Rope burns etched her skin. 

"So there you are!" she shouted, her voice harsh and rough from exhaustion.


	11. Choose

"Jezebelle! Why? Why can't you leave me alone and let me live my life?" Christian spat, angry in a flash. 

"Christian, I have told you many times that I love you!" she yelled, her voice raspy, "do you not understand that? I've promised myself that I would marry you and-!"

"That was years ago, Jezebelle! Things have changed! Why do you not understand that? Why must you stalk me so?"

"You hear that, mademoiselle de joie?" taunted Erik, "would he have proposed already had he been interested? I think so. Now if you loved him true, then you would let him be!"

Jezebelle gazed at her past flame in longing. "Christian, you said that you loved me! I expected you to marry me, for I loved you also-!"

"There are many forms of love, Jezebelle! I never said that you were my true love!" Christian's blue eyes blazed with frustration and disgust at her stubbornness.

"You left me dangling for so long, I assumed that-! Where are you going?"

"We're leaving, Jezebelle!"

"You would leave the Opera Populaire?" She looked at him incredulously, "You're mad! How would you survive? Would you leave Madame Giry? Your precious little friend, Meg?"

Christian winced. He hadn't thought about that. He would be leaving so much.

"We'll have to leave them, Christian. We don't have much of a choice." Erik held his love's hands. He knew how difficult it would be for them. They had to flee, though they didn't know where to.

"So what then?" Jezebelle smiled, seeing that Christian was torn. "Christian, before you leave, would you let me say goodbye? ...A kiss, perhaps?"

"Never!" The answer was blunt.

Angered, Jezebelle's frustration wore off and she turned to go, announcing "Very well, then I shall guide them here!"

"No, don't!" Christian cried out. He scowled, feeling that he had to do it. "Very well. Raise the portcullis, Erik."

His eyes glimmered with disgust as he heard the gate rising. _"I know that I will regret this!"_ he thought. He'd decided to say goodbye to Jezebelle, or, rather, let her kiss him.

She walked up to him gleefully. Pulling him into an embrace, she locked her lips with his.

"_Finally, I shall cure my beloved of this illness!"_ she thought, bursting with joy.

Christian grimaced, feeling nauseated at the sensation of her lips. They would taste of honey to another man, but to Christian, they tasted of bile. Erik, angered and fed up with the nymphomaniacal young vicomtess, crept up on them, brandishing a candle-holder.

Without warning, she whipped a gun out of her garter, aiming it at Erik. Christian gasped in horror. "No, Belle, don't hurt Erik-!" _"Why did I do this? I'm such a fool to have trusted her!" _he cursed himself for letting her in. Now fear swept through his body as he saw a gun trained on Erik, his own, he who he could not imagine living without.

"Now, I've had enough of this game!" she growled, "Christian, I want you to spend your whole life with me! I love you! Don't you understand tha-?"

"JEZEBELLE!" Christian snapped, "I hate the ground that you walk on! I have told you many times that I'm not interested and you've followed me as though I've said nothing! I'm in love with Erik. What part of that do you not understand? I love him!"

"Beware of what you say, Christian... otherwise, your beloved Phantom will bleed to death."

Christian's anger turned back to fear. "Christian, don't listen to her," Erik tried to reassure, though his voice trembled. _"What will happen to him if I die?"_ he thought. He tried not to look at the tears in Christians eyes. "Please, Belle, I beseech you! Don't hurt Erik! Please!" Christian's voice was choked and frightened.

Jezebelle smirked as she turned to face Christian, whose anger flitted back to his face "Well, do you choose me, or this monster-?"

"_That does it!" _Christian thought in fury. He spat in her eye, a sneer fixed to his lips. She flinched, wiping the saliva away.

"So, then your lover will die." she said, her finger tightening on the trigger.

Christian's cry was drowned out from the sound of the gunshot.


	12. You are free now

Erik staggered. His white shirt was stained with scarlet gore.

"NOOOOOOOOOOO!" Christian's cry of anguish echoed throughout the cavern. He pushed Jezebelle to the floor and bolted toward Erik.

"Erik! Erik-!" he exclaimed in horror. Erik's face was had a frozen expression of surprise on it, his breathing was labored.

He saw a curtain move out of the corner of his eye. Madame Giry and Meg dashed out from behind it, out of breath, as though they'd been running. Meg wore a shirt and trousers, with her hair tied behind her head.

"What's happened? What was that gunshot-?" Madame Giry started.

Their faces turned pale at the sight of Erik's bloody body lying on the floor. They had come too late to help their friends.

"What am I going to do now?" Christian sobbed.

Madame Giry ran over to his side. Quickly examining Erik, she turned to him solemnly.

"I'm sorry, Christian... there's nothing that we can do." Christian's face contorted in agony. He could not believe it at all. The man that he loved was dying...

"Well, will you take me now, Christian-?" Jezebelle said nonchalantly.

Christian whipped around, incredulous.

"Do you declare?" she fluttered her eyelashes.

Jezebelle fell hard on the stone floor, half-stunned. Christian had picked up a heavy book and thrown it at her, hitting her right in the chest. He was furious.

"YOU STAY AWAY FROM ME, YOU GODDAMNED WHORE! I SHOULD HAVE KILLED YOU THAT NIGHT ON THE ROOF, YOU GUTTER SLUT! YOU STUPID BITCH!" Christian bellowed with anger and pain. His face was flushed and moistened, his voice was rasping and husky. "YOU'VE KILLED HIM, YOU GODDAMNED FUCKING WHORE! GOD CURSE YOU! DAMN YOU, JEZEBELLE DE CHAGNY! YOU'VE KILLED HIM! My Angel...!" The boy practically shook with fury.

Jezebelle backed away, horrified by the coarse language, realizing that he was telling the truth.

* * *

"Chr-Christian..." Erik's voice was barely audible. 

"Erik?" Christian grimaced in pain, trembling, his anger of moments before deflating rapidly, replaced by a pain that seemed to inflate within him, attacking his heart with such brutality. He pulled his wounded lover into his arms.

"Do not mourn, beloved- I am free... from my past..." Erik's red blood was dripping from his mouth, the sound of it in his throat was making his once beautiful voice sound flinty and harsh.

"Erik... don't leave me! What will I do...?" Christian's voice was so choked that he could barely speak. He planted desperate kisses the scarred side of Erik's face.

"Remember me, love... remember that an angel... will be watching over you... protecting you... loving you..."

His eyelids fluttered feebly. His breath came out in an almost silent hiss.

* * *

Christian stared in disbelief. Erik was gone. 

Madame Giry and Meg tried not to listen to his howls of grief.

_"He really did love the Phantom...! What have I done?" _Jezebelle's initial thrill at having gotten Christian back gave away to horror and guilt as she realized that she'd committed murder... on the very man that her beloved Christian loved more than anybody else in life.

_"He'll never speak to me again!" _she made her way toward the water, attempting to escape...

She fell to the floor before she knew what happened. Meg had hit her over the head with her mother's staff.

_"You will never be welcome here again... and nobody, let alone men, shall ever look at you again without a shudder of disgust when I'm through with you!" _Meg thought angrily as she brandished a dagger, preparing to work on Jezebelle's face and hair, crudely hacking away at the damp tresses, cutting great chunks of them away at the roots, cutting vicious patterns deep into the skin of Jezebelle's face, chest, and back.

* * *

"O God...! Oh, my darling, my darling...!" Christian's anguished cries were in vain. Nothing could be done to bring Erik back. Madame Giry and Meg clenched their eyes shut, unable block out the sounds of his grief, unable to bear such tortured sounds. 

The roars of the mob grew louder... they were coming closer. Madame Giry flew to Christian's side, frantic to get Christian away from any more trouble.

"Come, Christian, we must leave! Before the mob comes!" Madame Giry urged.

But Christian was deaf to her. His face was ruddy and stained with tears. He cradled Erik's body in his arms, sobbing as he looked upon the face of his beloved, who he would never see alive again.

"Please, Estelle...!" Christian tried to clear his throat to speak, "Bring the gun to me...!" Madame Giry's eyes went wide. She couldn't bring herself to accept that Christian wanted to commit suicide. She embraced him tightly.

"Christian, you have a gift at singing, do you really wish-?"

"Yes I do! Please-! I can't bear it...!" he sobbed on her shoulder.

"But Christian, you know that suicide is a sin...!" Madame Giry stopped herself, knowing that Christian did not take kindly to the Bible now, after all of the cruelties that had been expressed toward his type, "You're a dear friend and a gifted performer; do you honestly wish to put an end to yourself? What would...?"

The pain was unbearable for Christian. He let out a shuddering sob as he gazed at Erik, resting his head on his beloved's still bosom.

"Oh Erik, my darling Erik-!" he cried in anguish.

Madame Giry sighed deeply, knowing how much that it was torturing him. Christian had lost half of his soul. She understood that grief; she'd lost her beloved Jules years before when Meg was a child, and, for her daughter's sake, she pushed it away and kept on going.

Madame Giry left Christian and crossed over to where Jezebelle's unconscious body lay bloody and scarred, her golden hair chopped short. Madame Giry winced as she reluctantly picked the gun up, trying to block out the thoughts of what he was about to do.

Christian trembled at the feel of the horrid weapon. The trigger was warm in his hand. He gasped out, "Tell them that I loved somebody very much... tell our story to them! I don't care what they'll think... I don't want Erik to be forgotten!"

Madame Giry and Meg nodded. They knew that it wouldn't do very well to tell anybody that the Opera Ghost and Christian Daaë, the leading tenor of the Opera Populaire, were in love. If Erik and Christian were to be remembered with any fondness, they would have to hide the love affair.

Christian gazed down at Erik with such pain and such love that the Girys felt that they were intruding.

"I will see you again, darling..." he murmured. Sniffling, he gave one last sob, "... I love you Erik...!"

Meg and her mother winced as the trigger pulled. The guilty weapon fell to the floor. Christian fell limply, on top of Erik, his life fading.

Meg stared on, tears seeping down her face, barely hearing the mob approaching the gate.

Would anybody at all ever know that the cavern was once home to two lovers... that died in the darkness there?

* * *

No sooner than had the Girys fled, the mob had reached the gate and proceeded to tear through it. 

"Mademoiselle De Chagny!" one of them cried out in horror at the sight of Jezebelle's body, which lay mutilated but still alive.

Henri and Phillipe entered the lair, glancing about... stumbling upon a dark mass, covered what looked like a cape.

Phillipe pulled the dark fabric off. The mass was gone... all that remained was a white mask, wet with what looked like tears...

_"It's over now, the music of the night..."_

_Finis_


End file.
